And Everything Else Meant Nothing
by natismo
Summary: A short AU Post AOTC Viggie. Anakin and Padme aren't married and haven't seen each other since Geonosis...


Loneliness.

Pain.

An ache in her chest that could not be soothed.

It was during this time of day that it was worst.

After a long day in Senate sessions, committee hearings and private meetings, debating endlessly over the most fundamental points of democracy, Padmé Amidala would find herself alone in the back seat of her speeder.

The smaller her view of the great senate building became through the window, the harder it was to keep her thoughts focused on her work.

She was nothing if not committed to her work, throwing herself whole-heartedly into Republic. Senator Amidala's day began with the artificial Coruscant dawn and ended long after the murky darkness that passed as night had fallen. During those hours she thought only of the republic, of democracy and the greater good. Bringing anything less then her entire focus to bear on her duties as a Galactic Senator brought a weight of guilt down upon her young shoulders.

And guilt was one thing she did not need.

She already had enough regret in her private life without it tainting her public office. It was her one source of pride. Her long service to her people was her life's achievement, all she had worked for since she was a child. First as Princess of Theed, then as Queen of Naboo, and now as their Senator.

The success of Amidala almost made up for the many failures of Padmé. The friendships that had been forgotten, the parents she'd hardly seen since she was 12, the sisters that had grown up, married and started families as she fell further and further behind. The achievements of Amidala had been at the cost of Padmé's.

So it had never been any trouble for Padmé to give up all her time to Amidala. No personal dilemmas had encroached upon the mind of the Senator, and Padmé the young woman had all but ceased to exist. The only time she flickered back into existence was during the occasional comm home, or the even rarer visit.

There was no bitterness in Padmé, she had long understood what had to be sacrificed to serve Naboo as she did. The satisfaction at helping others was repayment enough and she had allowed Padmé Naberrie and all that the name represented to fade into a ghost without a fight.

And Senator Amidala had been content. Her life had been full, or so it had seemed.

All that had changed a year ago.

A year ago Padmé Naberrie had been violently resurrected.

The bounty hunters sent to kill Amidala had inadvertently brought her back from the dead.

Their threat had brought someone back into her life, a person that she had left in the past like so many others. Someone she occasionally thought back on fondly, but nothing more.

And he had insisted on calling her Padmé.

As far as Anakin Skywalker was concerned, Amidala was nothing. It was Padmé Naberrie he stared shameless at, tracking her every movement with a deep intent, that at first, she had been too naive to see. She had felt the heat of that gaze, but Padmé was inexperienced in such things, when Anakin caught her eyes with his own, the way her heart suddenly froze in her chest and her breath caught in her throat frightened her.

No man, no matter how charming or handsome, had ever had such an affect on her. She had convinced herself that such emotions didn't exist, to be confronted by them left her shaken and confused. Especially when they were caused by a _jedi. _So she retreated behind the façade of Amidala's strength, spurring his 'childish' affections. Logic told her the intent behind Anakin's gaze was impossible, immoral, _illegal_ even. But although she denied it, her attraction to him remained, burning like a hot flame within her, no matter how deeply she buried it.

Suddenly maintaining The Senator twenty-four seven had exhausted her. For the first time in years she began to feel that Amidala was a mask, nothing more than a character of Padmé Naberrie's creation. And every time she felt Anakin Skywalker burning holes into her back when he thought she was not looking, she feel bitterness. A battle had begun between her two consciences. Padmé was no longer content to give control of her life over to Amidala. The jedi padawan had awoken dreams within her long thought abandoned.

When it was announced he would accompany her to Naboo, she was ashamed to feel a thrill of excitement. She knew it was dangerous, but she could not help but crave the little rushes of adrenaline he could provoke in her, seemingly on a whim.

It became harder to control her emotions around him. She found herself giggling and flirting in a manner entirely inappropriate. Where Amidala would have frowned and hid behind etiquette, away from the prying eyes of the senate and Obi-wan, Padmé let her emotions run almost unrestrained.

Alone at Varykino she selfishly let herself forget about the Senate and the Jedi. Her inhibitions dropped and she let herself laugh and joke with her young companion as if nothing stood between them. Such simple innocent pleasure could be found in his company. They could spend hours in the fields around Varykino talking about nothing, laughing at anecdotes from his life at the temple and her long-ago childhood on Naboo. Every time he smiled at her, an endearingly honest smile that reached up to his eyes (so different from her colleagues at the Senate), her cheeks would flame and she would find herself grinning back at him like a schoolgirl.

She become more and more intoxicated by him and the easy affection he showered upon her.

She kept the guilt at bay by telling herself they were doing nothing wrong, merely friends enjoying a short break from the stress of Coruscant. It was almost too easy.

In a few scant days he had gone from an intimidating stranger to closest confidante. She told him things she had not spoken of in a decade, sometimes never. It had been years since Padmé had felt so close to someone. Her handmaidens were the closest thing she had to friends, and despite the affection they shared, in the end they were just dedicated bodyguards and servants.

For his part Anakin seemed completely reckless in his disregard for the Jedi. He behaved as if he were an ordinary nineteen year old, the little Tattooine slave-boy grown up and eager to impress, not the prodigal 'chosen one' of the jedi. Padmé didn't chasten him, in a way she almost encouraged him. He was not 'Jedi Skywalker' to her, as would have befitted their relationship, he was 'Ani'. A name no other called him by.

In Anakin's mind her preference for 'Ani' only strengthened the bond he felt with her from his childhood. It made it easier to ignore his master's teachings. He knew the feelings he had for Padmé went against the Code, but they were so entrenched, stretching back a decade, that they were almost a part of him. He could no more stop loving her than he could stop breathing.

Every time she smiled at him or favored him with so much as a glance, his heart felt as though it would burst with happiness. One kind word from her was worth a year's praise from Obi-wan. Their time together quickly become the most treasured memories he had. Walking through the flowered meadows of Varykino with Padmé's hand warm in his own was a dream come true.

And then he kissed her, and Padmé, weakened by her first taste of love after so long trapped in the shell of the cold senator, let him. Her lips were soft and giving beneath him, her breath sweet were it mingled with his own and it felt so good... so right, and oh how she wanted to reach up and wrap her arms around him, to lose herself entirely in this beautiful feeling and never let him go because anything that felt like this must be love…

But the shock of realizing the extent of her feelings jarred her and she found herself pulling away from him, away from the softness of his lips and the warmth of his arms, ignoring the protests of her heart, which burnt with strange new desires.

She spoke the words, ending their short-lived fantasy, because in the end, whatever she felt was irrelevant. Anakin _was_ a jedi. There could be nothing more than friendship, no matter how contrived or tedious, between them, and she was weak, she no longer had the strength to resist him. Padmé turned away from him, pulling them back into reality with the last of her senator's resolve, hating herself. The guilt and pain she felt at the hurt in his eyes was far worse than that she had felt at betraying their vows to the republic.

In a week Anakin had somehow shown her the greatest joy she had ever know, and the greatest sorrow.

How could she be content with Amidala's life now?

Padmé snapped back from her musings, returning her to her surroundings, the bright lights of Coruscant and the soaring skyhooks of the Senatorial District. Her heart ached within her chest. 500 Republic loomed above her like a jeweled sword piercing the sky.

The speeder slowed smoothly to a stop before her apartment.

The wide elegant balcony was softly lit as always. Ellé and Moteé had retired for the evening but they had left the apartment's lights on as they always did. No doubt her evening meal awaited ready to be heated in the kitchen. A sigh escaped her.

She thanked her escort of Naboo delegation guards and dismissed them for the night. Their armored speeder took off, leaving her to make her way inside alone.

As expected, the apartment was empty save for Threepio. The protocol droid was waiting for her just inside the wide balcony doors. The sight of his ridiculously costly golden coverings, fitted new some months earlier, still brought a smile to her weary face, but he was also a reminder of things she had lost.

He waved a hand in jerky greeting, 'Miss Padmé! Miss Padmé!'

As always the droid sounded flustered and breathless, a strange quirk embedded in him long ago by his unusual maker. Padmé walked past him through the day lounge, heading to her chambers, eager to rid herself of her cumbersome senatorial robes and headdress before completed her work for the evening. 'Yes Threepio?'

He followed her with quick steps, 'We have had a visitor this evening, while you were still at the Senate, most unusual.'

Padmé tilted her head, rarely was she disturbed by anyone in her home, curiosity stirred in her as she continued to her chamber, loosening the fastenings on her long cloak. 'Really?'

'Yes Miss Padmé, and if I do say so myself, whilst I am always pleased to be of service to any of your guests, it is after all, one of my primary functions as a protocol droid, sometimes human behavior is completely beyond the understanding of my processors…'

Padmé let him ramble, knowing he would get to the point sooner or later. They entered her private chambers, lit only by dim night lights, the furniture barely visible, as he prattled. He shadowed her, followed her into her large closet were she left the heavy cloak before heading out into her bed chamber proper, kicking her shoes off as she walked. Threepio was still talking. She had an amendment proposition to proof before bed, she would change for sleep after.

Threepio's continued monologue re-entered her awareness, '…and naturally I said it was most unusual, but he was a guest and I'm afraid there was nothing I could say to dissuade him. He even threatened to de-activate me would you believe! Him, of all people! Oh it would have been much simpler if Miss Moteé or Miss Ellé had been here, but they left at nine so you see Mistress Padmé, there really was ...'

Padmé's face crumpled into a frown as her droid was interrupted by a series of twittering beeps and whistles. Turning in recognition, her foot, which she was still in the process of freeing from its shoe, hit something and she suddenly found herself sitting down heavily on the carpeted floor.

The source of the noise was now hidden from her view by the bulk of huge naboo-elm bed which dominated the room. Threepio was gesturing in concern and alarm, his voice rising an artificial octave. She ignored him. In the dim half light she reached forward and held up the thing over which she had tripped. It was a boot. A large bantha leather boot to be exact. One that had been torn off its owner's foot without even half of its fastenings unbuckled.

Threepio was still talking.

Padmé's breath caught in her throat and she clambered, suddenly sluggish and clumsy, onto her knees. Across the room was the familiar flashing red and blue status light of her former astromech, Artoo-deetoo, and sprawled across her bed as though he had every right in the galaxyto be there, was Anakin Skywalker.

Her blood turned to ice in her veins. The boot fell from her numb fingers to the floor with a soft thud.

Dimly Padmé was aware of Threepio arguing with Artoo as he was shepherded out of the room by the smaller droid, but her brain was incapable of making sense of his words. The world seemed to shrink down to nothing as she stared at Anakin in dumbfounded shock.

He was fully clothed, his only concession to comfort the long dark cloak that sat in a pile at the foot of her bed and the boots haphazardly dumped nearby. He was draped diagonally across the expanse of Hapan silk and Alderaanian cotton covers that were neatly spread over her mattress. He was on his side, one long arm stretched out towards her, the other pillowing his head, as if he'd fallen onto the bed and instantly to sleep. One of his feet, still in its sock, stuck out over the end of the bed awkwardly.

Padmé knelt motionlessly, her hands clenched in the bed covers as her eyes greedily drank in the sight of him. She had not laid eyes on him in a year. She had followed his exploits as best as she was able, devouring every holo report that made even the briefest mention of him, but it was not the same. The ache in her heart swelled back to throbbing life and she felt the choking sensation of tears at the back of her throat.

As if on cue, despite sleeping soundly through threepio and Artoo's arguing, Anakin's eyes opened to stare at her.

Suddenly Padmé found she couldn't bear to meet that piercing blue gaze, and her eyes dropped to her hands as a choking hiccup escaped her.

She heard the soft intake of breath, and _felt _his distress at her obvious pain, but was unable to raise her eyes to him. She cursed her weakness, he was right in front of her, the man she had missed more than life itself for these long months, torn from her side without so much as a goodbye after the Battle of Genosis, and she couldn't even look at him. She heard here own words echo in her mind, _'I truly, deeply, love you Anakin…'_ She loved him and yet she could not look at him?!

His voice was soft and broken 'Padmé…' She felt the warmth of his fingers at her cheek and instinctively leant into his touch, relishing the feel of his callused palm against her face. How many nights had she dreamt of this? Of feeling the warmth of his skin against her own? Her hand came up against his, and she took deep breath, raising deep brown eyes to meet his gaze.

He was kneeling on the bed above her, sad blue eyes boring into her very soul. His thumb traced the fullness of her bottom lip as his hand slipped behind the back of her head to burying itself in the curls of her hair.

Her head tilted up towards him as his own swiftly descended to claim her in a searing kiss. Her tears were forgotten instantly as she lost herself in his touch. A soft sigh escaped her as she opened herself to him.

Their third kiss.

His mouth was hot, demanding, much more so than she remembered. She pressed herself closer to him, her mouth meeting his hungrily. It was different, so very different to the chaste kisses they had shared, these months of war had changed him already… but it felt so good, so right... how could she have ever turned away from this feeling? Her heart was giddy with it.

Arms of flesh and durasteel wrapped around her, pulling up to him, and she followed, pouring into his lap and wrapping herself around him. Her arms were around his neck and she felt the prickle of short Padawan hair under her fingers. He groaned at her touch, his head lowering to place kisses against the flushed skin of her neck. She felt her name whispered against her skin and sighed, wrapping his long padawan-braid, sign of his vow to the order, around her fingers without remorse.

She didn't care. Neither of them did. Feelings and emotions awoken by bounty hunters, pushed away by duty at Varykino, vindicated at Genosis then denied by long months apart were too much for either of them to fight.

The heat between their bodies, the taste of him in her mouth, it was something she couldn't explain. She loved him.

Padmé lost herself in his kisses, in his touch and everything else meant nothing.


End file.
